A Different Love Story
by ToastersThatPlayLazertag
Summary: Their love wasn't what most would call beautiful. It was messy and bloody, but still love. They lived, they hurt, they loved, and they killed. Follow Henrietta and Ace through their dark, messy, beautiful love.
1. Chapter 1

**So I got locked out of my old account and decided to make a new one. You may know me as FancyToaster or Mortia T. Mouse. Anywho, I don't own KND, and this story was inspired by two epic albums. **

Blue eyes stared into the crystal clear water, looking past their reflection. She dipped her boot into the pool, testing to see if the water was cold. A brief breeze form an open window sent a chill down her spine, causing her body to involuntarily shiver. A small, thin tear slid down the girl's face as she looked at her reflection. Shining blue eyes, blond hair in two loose braids, and tan skin looked back at her. _Is this what I've become? _she thought. _Someone too scared of everything that they actually think _this _is a good idea? _She looked down at her wrist, seeing long, thin scars in a vertical pattern. She cringed slightly, and sighed deeply. _Apparently so. _Another hot tear slid down her face. She looked up at the clock, four forty-seven. She sighed heavily and reached for her phone. She sent the first contact - an eleven year old girl with black hair and autumn eyes who she thought of as a sister - a quick seven worded message.

_I'm so sorry that I failed you._

Fail is all she ever did. She jumped from foster home to foster home, because she kept screwing up and pissing off the parents. She was always screwing up, whether it'd be from not wanting to share her toys with five other girls, or not allowing her 'brothers' to watch her take a shower, or telling when her 'father' touched her where she knew he shouldn't be touched, or from fighting kids who would mess with the younger siblings in the house instead of fighting their own battles 'like a real man.' She couldn't help it, she was a mistake, something that should've never happened. And now, she was going to erase herself. Make it seem like she was never here. No one will miss her - no one ever does. She's doing the _right _thing. She's finally doing something that won't be a mistake.

She put her phone down and sighed deeply. Four fifty. "If I going to do it, I need to go now," she said, her voice harsh and raspy. She closed her eyes and dove deep into the water, not planning on coming back up. She breathed slowly and deeply, allowing water to fill her 'not-quite-small-but-not-quite-large' body. She opened her bright blue eyes, trying to focus on what she could see. _I'd never thought my last sight would be that ugly tiger shark, _she thought, studying the mural on the ceiling. Within three minutes, she could feel her conscious slipping away, her breath fading, her eyes drooping close. She tried to count the amount of bubbles floating up, up, up and away from her.

A few hot, painful tears escaped her eyes, but a smile stuck on her face. _It's finally over, _she thought, letting her tired eyes drip close. _I'm free. _The smile faded from her face as the last of her air bubbles popped.

At four fifty-three, Henrietta Von Marzipan lost consciousness.

* * *

At four fifty-five, Ace Garcia walks into the pool room, looking for where he left his sun glasses. He's got a black eye from his stepfather that no one needs to know about and he could've sworn he lost his shades in here last period. He sighs deeply and looks around and notices and bright gold cell phone placed by the pool, along with a tan book bag, red scarf, and a few bracelets. "Someone's here?" he said to himself, turning around, checking to see if anyone saw him and his eye. Seeing no one around, he scans the girl's locker room, hoping to find that some idiot girl left her stuff. Seeing the door shut tightly, he checks down into the pool, where he can see a mess of blond hair and closed eyes staring at him. "Shit," he swears, and before he can stop himself, he jumps into the pool, attempting to get the drowning girl out.

At four fifty-seven, him and the blond girl are on hard, blue cold tile. He's on top of her, trying to get her to wake up. He pressed down hard onto her chest, constantly pumping. He pressed an ear to the valley in between her breast, hearing a faint, dying heartbeat. "C'mon girl, wake up!" he said, pressing down one more time. "Fuck," he swore softly, before connecting his mouth with hers, blowing in two breaths. Seeing no response, he pumped and breathed into her again. _C'mon girl! Wake the hell up! You can't die on me, _he thought urgently. He breathed into her one more time, hoping it'll be the one to bring her back.

At five o'clock, Henrietta is coughing up water and blood and jerking violently. Ace looks at her with a small smile, and leans against a wall, catching his breath and slowing his racing heart. She steadies herself on her hands and knees and locks eyes with her 'savior', if she wished to call him that. Sharp blue eyes stare into warm honey brown ones and in that moment, she can swear that she felt butterflies in her stomach. She catches her breath, and stares at him, studying him. _Did he..? _she thought, and seeing him drenched to the bone was more than a good enough answer.

He stares at the soaking wet girl for a second, and in that second he realizes that he's never seen a more beautiful girl in his life. Even coughing up blood and water, and breathing heavily, she took his breath away. And for the first time, he didn't mind not breathing. Honey brown eyes checked over her slumped form and hesitantly pressed a firm hand to her back. Seeing that she was probably too shocked to speak, he spoke first. "You okay?" he asked gently. The girl frantically looked down and quickly nodded. Two minutes passed before she spoke.

"Why'd you save me?" she asked, her voice coming out soft, laced with a German accent. He smiled at her softly and chuckled a little.

"You looked like you needed it," he said smoothly. Henrietta looked up at him and studied. She noticed that he was drenched and sickly pale, worn and beaten up. _Did I do that? _she thought, noticing his tired form. Tears prickled into her eyes and before either of them knew, she was latched on to him, apologizing relentlessly. He hugged her back and rubbed her back. He pulled away slightly and said, "It's okay. You're okay."

"But what about your eye?" she asked, motioning towards his bruised eye. He looked confused for a second, then his eyes widened in shock. He got up and started walking toward the door.

"Shit," he swore. She got up and followed him to the door. "I- I have to go. It was nice talking to you and all, but I have to go," he said urgently. She stopped him before he could get to the door, and stood in front of him.

"Can I at least give you a ride home?" she asked, looking up at him with large doe eyes. "As a thank you?" He looked over at the time and gulped. _He's gonna kill me for being so late, especially if he finds out I was with a girl, _he thought.

"I er- really have to go...um..."

"Henrietta. My name's Henrietta Von Marizipan. Please?" she said, staring at him. Seeing he wasn't going to budge she sighed and lowered her head. "Can I at least get your name?" she asked softly, hoping she would get an answer.

"Ace Garcia. It was great to meet you and I hope we can see each other again, but I've got to go before my dad kills me," he said, hurrying out from the pool room. She watched him run out of the door and before she knew it, he was gone. Not a single trace of him was left, and if she wasn't saved by him, no one would've known he was even here.

"Ace..." she said for herself. "Ace Garcia saved me today."


	2. Chapter 2

Arriving home at five twenty, Ace carefully looked around his driveway. Seeing the garage shut, his anxiety and heart rate rose. He couldn't tell if his parents were home or not, and not knowing made him nervous. If his dad was there, he'd be choked and beaten, literally. The very thought of his father's large hands around his throat made his palms slick and his heart practically burst from his chest. If his mother was there, then he was almost safe. As long as she was passed out with a shattered bottle in her hand, like she normally was, then he was fine. She wouldn't be hit with the broom and swearing at in Spanish. If they both were there, then he'd be in serious trouble. When his father was home, no one was safe. He'd have to protect his mother, his little sister, and himself.

Running his large fingers through his messy red hair, he sighed heavily. "I'm going to have to go in sometime," he said to himself, as he approached the bright blue door. His house didn't look like much on the outside, it was a single story with plain white walls and a sturdy, steep black roof. It had a nice, green, lush yard and a paved white driveway leading to a colorful garage that was mostly blocked by the house. The only thing made the house stand out from the rest was the electric blue door. When Ace was a young child, his mother, Josie, was a free spirit who took on multiple projects involving her home. She'd paint the living room five times a month until she found the color that matched her 'darling husband's sparkling gray eyes.' She decided during a trip to a repair store that she wanted a bright door that made her home stand out, and Ace's favorite color was blue. Almost instantly, the door became electric blue (because it's only right that my baby gets a blue door, no?)

Smiling at the memory, he grasped the silver knob (because brass would be ugly now) and turned, taking a deep breath. He entered with a deep breath, and stepped onto the wooden floor, hearing it softly creak beneath his sneakers. He was met with a light gray wall, with a large, but tattered and worn out green out resting on it. Taking off his shoes by the front door, he tip toed quietly into the kitchen, hoping not to make too much noise. Sleeping on the table was a shock of red hair that was straight, but thick. The red on the woman's head almost blended in with the wall, but her hair was a shade duller, just a shade (doesn't this color match my hair, mijo?) The red-head smelled of sweat, pride, and cheap champagne. Snoring softly, she turned over, knocking over a clear, empty bottle that still had the price on it. Glass shattered onto the bright white tile floor, that was always spotless (a clean house is a functional house), and scared away the family's pet gecko. Instantly, the red-head looked up, revealing a small face with big, bloodshot, but beautiful brown eyes, a delicate nose, thin pink lips, and freckles.

Seeing her surroundings, she gasped and immediately ran for the broom, which Ace grabbed first. "Oh I've made a terrible, terrible mess. Lemme clean it up, mijo," she said delicately, showing him a smile he hasn't seen in a while, a very hung over, but sober smile. Yellowing teeth showed and he couldn't help but smile back. She reached for the broom, but he kept it away from her. She looked at him questionably, but shrugged. "If you wanna clean up wanna clean up after me, be my guest," she said nonchalantly. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a green bottle. Ace recognized it immediately - beer. Not Josie's choice of drink, but acceptable when everything else was too expensive to taste right. She didn't look up, but felt the frown forming on his face. "Don't look at me like that, Alex," she said, opening it up. She stared at it for a long time and sighed heavily. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," she said, her voice almost cracking. Ace gave her a funny look, but said nothing.

Slowly, she tilted the bottle over and poured it down the drain. Her hands shaky and unsteady she didn't stop until the last drop was gone. By the time the bottle was empty, tears were streaming down her face, causing the floor under her to get wet. She dropped the bottle and it broke in the sink, and fell to her knees. She gave a weak smile to Ace, and he ran beside her. "I'm gonna fix us," she whispered. "I'm going to make us a whole family again. No more drinking, and no more fighting." Ace hugged her tightly to his chest, causing her to sob quietly. "Just like we used to be before. 'Member, mijo? Back when Glow was little? I'd paint all the time, and Christopher'd bring us things home from work? And no one was fighting. I promise that we're going to get better," she said, looking up at him. He smiled at her, choking back his own tears, and ruffled her hair.

"You need to get some sleep," he said in response. She smiled and kissed his cheek. They slowly rose together, and he walked her down the bright green hallway and into a pale purple room (it's your grandmother's favorite color.) She walked in and sniffed, then walked out. She pointed to the door across from it, the door her and her husband used to share. They usually don't sleep with each other anymore, but she wanted to be in small room that held so many memories. She was going to fix her family, and she had to get used to sleeping in her room again. Not the living room couch, the kitchen floor, or the guest room, her room.

Ace opened the door and bright yellow momentarily blinded them both. When their eyes adjusted, they noticed that the room seemed not to have been touched for years. The bed was perfectly made (beds are the centerpiece, keep them neat), the lamp was off and it's shade dusty (isn't it pretty?), the television was off and the remote was beside it, the bookshelf was tidy (your father reads a lot of novels, mijo. He'll need somewhere to put them...) and the closet was closed. He helped get into bed and smiled at her. "I promise I'll fix this or die trying," she said, smiling brightly at him. He nodded and kissed her forehead. He walked towards the door, but looked back at her before leaving. "Mijo?" she said, sitting up.

"Si?" he responded, still standing in the doorway.

"I love you. And Glow. And your father," she said, laying back down. Ace smiled at her softly.

"I know. I love you too, mom."

"Can you tell Glow for me? I don't really wanna move."

"I will. Goodnight," he said, closing the door behind him. _She's gonna get help, _he thought as he walked down the bright green hallway, going to a silver and red room on the right.


	3. Chapter 3

He walked down the bright green hallways looking for a red and silver door on the right. This door belonged to his sister, Chloë, better known as Glow because of her seemingly iridescent gray eyes. She was fifteen years old, almost two years younger than him. Her life's been a living hell for as long as she can remember, and she's been dealing with it on her own. That isn't to say that she and her brother aren't close, she thinks of him as her twin, despite being almost seventeen. She's just been dealing with it in the ways she knew how. When she was between the ages of seven and ten, she'd cry about it. Eleven to thirteen, she began cutting. The only reason she stopped was because a teacher saw, called the house, and Ace sent her away to an institution. Fourteen to the present day, she gets high off of whatever she can find, whenever she can find it. Today, she's taking_ one, two, three, four, five, six, seven _pretty green pills with a Q on them, which she stole from her best friend's locker. She isn't completely sure what it is, but if Sandy has them, they have to be good. And besides, it isn't like she'll die or

She waits what seems like an eternity, but before she could tell, it kicks in. She can't even feel her legs and she knows that probably a bad thing, but she bets they're as high as her. She runs to the light switch and switches it off, then takes off her black shirt and skirt. She stares at a large and broken mirror and doesn't seem to notice the crack in the center that came when a hairbrush hit it one night. Staring at herself, clad in a pink bra and blue, short leggings, she smiled softly. Large cuts were hidden by the shorts, so they weren't there, right? Small cuts were shown right about her knees, but she didn't mind those. All she saw was a blond girl with big gray eyes and _goddamn. This bitch was fucking sexy as hell. _She toyed with her hair and sent herself a flirty smile. "He-y gorgeous," she said, strutting closer to the mirror. As she moved closer, the mirror girl moved with her. "You're the cutest thing I've seen since, well, me." She smiled and heard the compliment. Seeing the reflection move her lips as well, she blushed slightly, thinking beautiful girl in front of her said it. She smirked when she noticed the other girl blushed too. "Am I making you blush?" she said, and noticed the girl's cheeks get redder. When the mirror didn't respond, she pouted a little.

"Aren't go going to say anything, beautiful?" Again, the mirror didn't respond. She began to get a little irritated with the thing. "So you just aren't going to speak," she said dismissively. Upon hearing no answer. she sighed. "Well fuck you too," she said, giving it the finger. "T's not like I wanted to be friends with you or nothin', skank." She turned away from it, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're just a cheap, ugly, whored out, slutty, fucktard bitch. Ho." She turned around and eyed the girl up and down. "I bet you cut yourself," she said, looking down at the girl's legs and seeing tiny cuts. "Only emo fags do that type of stuff," she said. She sneered at her, and was surprised to get the same glance back. "It's the worst kind of fag." Her heart beat faster and faster, but she scowled at the girl. "I used to be that type of fag," she said swiftly, giving the girl a pitying glance. She pulled down her leggings and showed the mirror girl. Her legs weren't covered with a lot of scars, but all of them were at least seven inches across. "I cut a while ago, not anymore. It hurts to look at them," she said, cringing at the sight. She looked up, visibly disgusted by herself and sighed, when she saw the reflections and its cuts, she smiled softly. "You're just like me," she said, looking at it. "Got all of the cuts down to a tee," she said, looking over them. Her eyes widened and she sighed softly. "You are me," she said looking down. A tear slipped from her eyes as she crashed against the ground. She'd lost all feeling in her legs, and they just couldn't support her anymore. "I'm fucking pathetic," she murmured against the silver carpet.

She heard a loud pounding on her door, but she doesn't answer. "Suck my my robot balls!" she calls, not caring who hears her. She hears another two knock and a muffled voice, which she recognizes as Alex's, not Father's and she sighs heavily. "Go the fuck away, Ace. I don't want to be around you." Two more loud knocks were given. "Suck my ass, Ace."

"Open the door, or I'm breaking it down," the voice said, with an 'I'm-not-shitting-you' tone. Glow sighed and waved it off.

"I dropped the fuck I was supposed to give. Can you look in your ass and find it? Thanks, bro," she said, a carefree tone in her voice. She looked at the door and began to count down in her head. _Three, two, one..._she thought, and as soon as she hit one, a loud bang was heard on the other side of the door."Did you fuck up?" she asked, not really caring if the boy dislocated his shoulder or not. Hearing no answer, she sighed sadly. _He didn't even want to be around me, _she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. _I guess I can't blame him, _she thought, _no one wants to be around me. Everything was fine until _I _came along. Now that old bitch can't even stand up straight. And Alex has to go out battered and bruised and shit. And Papi...he's just...mean. It wasn't like this before. They were happier, I'm sure. I fucked up. I fucked _everything_ up._

Glow sighed and stood up. Her legs were weak and her knees were shaky, but she could just stand. She looked in the mirror and growled at the scars. She heard her brother crashed into the wooden door, but didn't pay him any mind. _They're so fucking big, _she thought, tracing the last cut with her index finger. It was across her left thigh, all big and pale with scar tissue over her not quite tan skin. It was at least an inch in width and eight inches across, and if it were a few centimeters deeper, she'd be dead. Her thought became thick and she could feel herself sweating, even though she wasn't hot. Her knee bucked under her weight, which wasn't that much, but it was enough to make her want to vomit. She forced herself stand until her legs gave out again and crashed on the floor again, her fall matching the banging of the door.

She couldn't feel her legs anymore, but it wasn't as if she was using them anyway. "Why didn't he let me fucking die?" she asked herself. If she had any tears left, she'd cry and let herself drown in her tears and misery. Seeing as she was all cried out, she settled for curling herself in a tight ball. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very cold, yet she was sweating. "I...I don't under..stand," she said, struggling to form a coherent sentence. Her words were slurred and so was her thoughts. She was too weak to even think about moving. Quite frankly, the only thing she could do, was just lie there, pitying herself. "I'm so fucking WEAK!" she yelled violently at no one in particular. "WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME DIE, ACE?! HUH?! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME FUCKING DIE! I'M ALREADY IN FUCKING HELL!" she screamed at the heavy wooden door, not hearing Ace banging on it. She growled slightly, and her eyes momentarily closed, but she quickly opened them again, the gray eyes illumining her dark room with fury. She rolled around and yawned, suddenly aware of how heavy her eyelids were. "If I can not wake up," she said softly, "that'd just be perfect." She turned around and lied on the floor, closing her eyes softly.

When she awoke, she was lying down face up in an empty tub, she couldn't see clearly, but she felt someone standing over her. "Wha?" she said, not fully understanding what was going on. Suddenly, a cup of warm water was poured on her stomach. She felt it hit her skin, and slightly burn her. Her vision focused on what was clearly a man, and she narrowed her eyes. "What the fuck?" she said, looking at him, identifying him as Ace.

"What the hell were you on?" he demanded, not looking at her, but dousing her with warm water again. She glared as hard as she could at him, which wasn't that hard, and growled. "I asked you a question, Chloe. What the _fuck _were you on?!" he demanded in a harsh voice. She glared at him and hissed when cold water hit her face.

"Stop it!" she yelled at him, causing him to look at her. His brown eyes were narrowed and harsh, even if one was practically purple. She looked away, unable to hold her head up for anymore. He simply refilled the cup with cold water and splashed her again. She hissed loudly and then growled lowly, as if warning him not to do it again, but he shrugged slightly.

"That didn't answer my question," he said in a calm voice.

"I don't fucking know what I took," she said, a defiant look in her eyes, but he believed her. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but she apprehended him. "It was a pretty green pill with Q's on them. I think I took, like, seven? Maybe eight? No, definitely seven. I took seven," she said in a detached voice. He gave her a confused look and sighed.

"You would've died if I didn't come in when I did."

"_Suuuurrreee, _I would have," she purred sarcastically. He face-palmed and sighed softly. He pointed to her chin, and instinctively her hand went to her own chin and she felt something crackling on it. "The fuck is that?" she demanded, looking at him in disbelief.

"Dried foam. You literally started foaming from the mouth. You looked like you had rabies, kid, and you probably would've died," he said, his voice calm and collected. He dumped another cold cup of water on her head and kneeled beside the tub. "You're a smart kid, Chloe. You, Mom, Dad, and practically everyone knows it. Why would you go and do something this _stupid?" _he asked, curiosity slightly beaming from him. She shifted in the empty tub, soaked to the bone, and looked away.

"I don't even know what I_ did_," she said stupidly. He stared at her in complete disbelief. She sighed softly and grumbled, "fine. I wanted to get high enough to where I didn't want to cut again." She looked at her brother, her arms crossed and lips in a huffy pout and said, "And I didn't care where I got whatever I got. I thought it was some type of Molly or something. Is that so bad?" Ace sat on the floor beside her and sighed. She looked over at him, her wet blond hair clinging to her shoulders. Gray eyes locked with brown and she understood where he was coming from. _Not wanting to cut is really good. Getting high on unknown shit instead of dealing with my feelings isn't, _she thought looking at him thoughtfully.

And he was able to understand her a little better too. _It's hard and she doesn't want to go away again, _he thought, nodding his head a little. "It'll get easier, just keep your head up, kid," he said, ruffling the wet strands. She glared at him softly, but smiled at him.

"Whatever you say, Ace," she said, looking at him. The two looked at each other for a second, then he smiled at her softly. "You should get me some towels before Papi gets home," she said, staring at the door. He smiled slightly at her.

"I knew you were smart. Just put on a t-shirt and pajama pants or something and when he comes home, pretend to be sleep. He probably won't bother you then, and keep Smiley with you. Last thing we need is a dead gecko lying around," he said, walking out. A moment later he returned with two towels; one blue and the other red. She smiled at him as he walked out and closed the door. She stripped off the few remaining clothes she was wearing and wrapped herself with the blue towel and the dried her hair with the red one. She looked in the bathroom mirror and instead of seeing a beautiful blond girl like she did earlier, she saw a girl staring back at her. The girl was not happy, and by the way her mouth was set, it seemed like she hasn't been happy in a long time. She tried putting on a smile, but she could tell it was forced a little bit _too _hard. The girl in the mirror wasn't _beautiful, _she was _hollow and broken._


End file.
